


The Castle for the King

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Bottom Tom, M/M, PWP, Switching, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer isn't the only heat scorching the halls of the Castello dei Principi di Biscari. There's some encounters that simply won't wait for the appropriate place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Castle for the King

**Author's Note:**

> The "castle" move, in chess, is when the king and rook pieces swap places; this move was invented to speed the game along faster.

"You're an embarrassment to both of us," Tom groaned, making Bill's head snap up from where he was bent over the task of zippering up his immense patterned boots. "God, can't you dress halfway normal for once? We're on the cover of Italy's music issue of men's Vogue and you look like...like...ugh, tell me that's faux snakeskin at least."

Bill knew exactly what to do with Tom's opinions. Here they were, getting ready for a photo shoot against the sumptuous background of a real Italian palazzo, and all Tom could think to do was critique his choice of outfit.

"Pfft," Bill responded, fixing a stony gaze on his older brother. "You know, I've given up on expecting you to understand high fashion, but I'm sick of you being so fucking pedestrian, Tom. Have you ever thought about what I have to go through?"

"That hurts," Tom said, deadpan, clasping the place over his heart. "You're getting me to wear a suit jacket in this one."

"Oh, a suit jacket," Bill replied, scoffing. "That's nothing. You wore mine in the last one. If you'd loosen up, be a little adventurous..."

"Says the one on Germany's list of top 100 ugliest women," Tom shot back. "I see where it gets you. No thanks."

"Boring," Bill mumbled under his breath. "Middle class. _Chav_. You know you're not black, right?"

Tom mimed taking a knife to the heart. Either that or he was jerking off an imaginary dick onto his left pectoral, and Bill was not invested enough to ask.

A blond head poked around the screen that divided the luxurious sitting room they were using to get dressed and prepped for the photo shoot. "Bill? Five minutes."

"Yeah," Bill said, lifting a hand to Natalie in acknowledgment. He checked the fit of his boots one more time - he hated tripping in any kind of boot, no matter how high-heeled - and got to his feet.

Tom drew even with him as they approached the marvelously-detailed, richly colored dressing screen, which might be hand-painted for all that Bill knew. Half the things in this palazzo were worth more than they made in a year.

"Hey," Tom murmured, loud enough for Bill to hear as he riveted him in place with a hand on his arm, yet soft enough it wouldn't carry further. "You look incredible."

Bill cracked a smile. "You look...not awful," he managed.

Tom quirked an expressive dark brow.

"You look hot," Bill said, annoyed that Tom could do his best to make their face and body so unattractive yet still be so appealing. "Like I want to tear your clothes off." _And burn them,_ Bill added in his thoughts.

"Later," Tom murmured, with a purely boyish grin.

Later indeed. It was hot in the palazzo, the kind of sweltering that had Natalie daubing their noses and chins in between every other shot, and there was a lot of film to go through as well as an interview and more than one clothing change.

Bill posed; he pouted, he smoldered, he stood with a wide-legged stance. They talked in stilted English to the photo shoot staff – the photographer, the fashion editor. Bill had specific ideas about poses, and Tom balked at first, his eyes flashing defiance.

"No," Tom informed him, folding his arms to make a stolid fortress of himself.

"You're going down," Bill breathed, jabbing a finger in Tom's direction. He arched a brow, silent implication that there were later pleasures now to be denied if his twin continued to thwart him.

Tom inhaled, his dark brows descending like a sudden storm. "But--"

"Don't make a big thing of it," Bill cut in, swift. At times like this, he was grateful no one could follow their conversations when abbreviated to such an extent.

Tom's expression twisted, but this time when the photographer gestured and Bill reinforced it with a hand on Tom's shoulder, Tom went to one knee.

Pleased, Bill crossed his legs and assumed his picture face.

There was an intake of breath beside him, but not too much later Tom was smiling and joking around 

They went through a few different set-ups with Tom at Bill's feet, Tom sprawled out in a chair beside him, Tom lounging at his feet as Bill stood in front of the immense gilt-framed mirror they'd stayed near for a few shoots.

After a few hours Bill was pushing his hips out in fine, high-waisted fabric; one of the finest tuxes he'd ever worn. Tom's eyes dwelled on his with a brief, heated look.

_Oh,_ Bill realized, as he got it. _Oh, Tomi._ A secret smile curved his lips.

He paid greater attention to Tom's sidelong glances and straightforward appraisals after that. Bill had caught the wavelength and he knew what his _lover_ wanted; something his twin couldn't say or even hint to.

"We need a break," Bill said, peremptory and brooking no argument about it. They had posed for hours, they had an interview yet to do, a camera had been filming the shoot off and on, and the heat was bad enough Bill was wiping his armpits and junk every time they went to change.

They conferred with their handlers for a moment before an offer was made.

"Twenty minutes?"

Bill shook his sleekly-coiffed head. "Half an hour," he replied, firm about it. It was a formality. He knew they'd end up pushing forty minutes if they were lucky.

Their Italian interpreter began to nod, glancing to the rest of the staff who made assenting noises.

Bill gathered in Natalie with a brief gesture. "Tom and I will need privacy," he said, and their assistant slash makeup artist gave him a bare nod, somewhat thin-lipped in expression. He gave her a shrug in response.

How could he help it if Tom wanted him so badly?

They headed back for the makeshift dressing room that had been cordoned off for them, Bill grabbing a bottle of water in passing, Tom striding with his loose swagger in his oversized, tattered jeans.

"You look like a hobo," Bill sighed as he pushed open the sitting room door.

"Will you let up on me, already?" Tom returned, kicking the door shut behind them with an annoyed jerk of his leg.

"I'm going to get _on_ you," Bill told him, turning around and pointing at the sumptuous arm of a horsehair couch that was partly visible from behind the painted screen he'd admired earlier. "And we'll never agree on fashion. It's part of what makes our relationship so passionate."

Tom clenched his jaw and approached with stiff strides, folding his arms over his front. He didn't move past Bill, though; he stood chest to chest with him and breathed hard.

"Oh," Bill murmured, reaching up to tap a finger against his briefly-pursed lips. "Did I read it wrong? I was so sure you wanted..."

Tom glanced at the floor, Bill's shoes; did anything but meet his eyes. A tic pulsed in his jaw. He was silent, but his eyes were hungry. Better yet...the ravenous look that Bill recognized; the kind of need that had caused Bill to call for a break to begin with.

Bill smiled and reached out, gripping Tom's jaw. "You do want it," he purred, and leaned in to lap at Tom's mouth, tasting the sheen of lip balm and hint of powder.

Small wonder Natalie was pissed; Bill would be undoing her hard work, and causing her to perform extensive touch-ups before they could finish the shoot.

Tom groaned softly under Bill's determined onslaught, his mouth parting as Bill licked at the seam of his lips, nipping at the delicious fullness of lower lip. He sucked Tom's lip ring into his mouth. Tom broke away from him, then, licking self-consciously at his lip.

"Not too much," Tom mumbled, but he surged forward into Bill's arms with an eagerness that caused them both to stumble.

"You don't want my kisses?" Bill whispered. He bit his lip, casting his eyes down to glance at Tom through veiling lashes. Outside, he could afford to be arrogant, 'on' for the camera. Here, he needed to know that Tom wanted him this badly.

Tom licked his lips, catching Bill's lower lip in the process. "No, I...you can't make it swollen..." He strained forward for a kiss.

Bill gave him a wicked grin. "I already did," was his rejoinder, and he reached between them to grope Tom through his baggy jeans. He kissed over Tom's parted lips, coaxing Tom's tongue into his mouth.

Tom grunted and pushed against him, twining close as though to hook a leg around him and hump away. Bill laughed, pulling his mouth from Tom's, and reached into his nearest baggy pocket, delving deep and coming up with the sealed foil square of a condom.

"Tom, dependable Tom," Bill sighed, quirking a brow. He gave Tom bright eyes as he tried to suppress a grin. "Always pretending to be 'on' for the ladies. I bet you didn't think you would have it used on you when you slipped it in there." Their reversal of roles was infrequent enough it still came as a surprise when Tom expressed it, however overt or indirect. He dropped the condom back into Tom's pocket, saving it for later.

"We've got to be quick," Tom said, breathing harshly into his ear. He rubbed his cock against the groove between Bill's hip and his groin.

"So bend over for me," Bill murmured, gesturing for the arm of the couch. He strained forward to nibble at the corner of Tom's mouth, belying the quickness implied by his words. He wanted Tom spread out before him; yet he wanted to enjoy it.

Tom flashed him a half irked, half shy yet needy smirk. He shuffled for the couch, already unbuckling the valiant belt that held up his jeans.

"We can go slow and take our time tonight," Bill told him, voicing his earlier thoughts. "Right now I need to get in you." He left it unsaid that it was what he knew Tom needed, too.

It was enough that Tom was going for the arm of the couch; was letting his jeans slide down his thighs as he bent and exposed his boxer-clad ass for Bill's perusal.

"Very nice," Bill murmured, striding toward his twin. He stepped behind the screen, dragging it over a few feet to give them the illusion of privacy, and grabbed for his handbag. It was a moment's work to find the lube that he kept in there in an unmarked opaque bottle.

He stepped up behind Tom and savored the catch in Tom's breath as he pulled Tom's boxers down one-handed. Bill had to pause for an instant and bite his lip again; he was so turned on he could barely think, yet alone begin a proper prep. He stroked the triangle of skin at Tom's back and breathed hard as Tom tipped his head to one side, giving him a view of flushed profile and heavy-lidded eyes.

The angle at which Tom was bent over had him exposed nicely for Bill's view already, but he placed a hand on Tom's left cheek, pulling it apart from the other and exposing the cleft and the wink of Tom's entrance for his appreciative eyes. Bill had trouble deciding what to focus on; where his fingers needed to go, or Tom in profile, biting his lip and looking so incredibly turned on, waiting for Bill to continue.

"Do me," Tom urged.

Bill nodded, stroking his thumb over Tom's delicate skin. "I'll take care of you," he whispered.

Tom was already breathing hard as Bill fed a trickle of lube, their favorite water-based brand, into the hidden part of Tom as he used the tip of his finger to guide its flow. Bill found himself holding his breath, lip bitten in concentration as he rocked his first finger into the tightness that gripped him instantly. He watched Tom's face as soon as his finger was immersed.

"Oh," the low, involuntary sound left Tom.

"Shh," Bill reminded him. Quick and quiet were the keywords of this encounter, along with their baseline of hot and needy and _now_. It would be safer to wait until they were locked up in their hotel room together, of course, but there was something about the way Tom eyed him up in haute couture that gave Bill a thrill he couldn't resist.

Bill prodded at Tom's hole until it opened under his black-tipped finger. He drizzled lube onto his finger as he moved it in and out, establishing a fast pace in counterpoint to Tom's needy, excited panting. It made Bill want to whimper and he had to bite his own lip, _hard_.

He was worried about getting caught, and knew there wasn't much time for extended prep but every part of Tom needed coaxing, especially the part stretched taut around the two fingers Bill brought out and coated with more lube and pressed in to the second knuckle. He watched Tom's face and the shift in his breathing and made a small, involuntary noise as Tom's lips parted and his tongue played over his bottom lip, slow and thorough. Bill pressed against Tom's thigh with a gasp.

"Can you take me?" Bill rasped, stroking his fingers into Tom and angling, gently, for his prostate. Tom enjoyed that stimulation as much as Bill did, but it was so easy for that kind of pleasure to overload his senses.

Tom hesitated before responding, tensing around Bill's fingers but also rocking back, pushing his butt toward Bill. "Not yet," he admitted at last.

Bill nodded, reaching into Tom's bagged-out pocket for the second time, bringing out a condom and laying it on Tom's lower back. He knew Tom hated telling him no, knew Tom wanted this as badly as he did, but was also well aware that the consequences of going right in while Tom was too strung-taut would hurt them both.

Not to mention, the humiliation of making up excuses for a sudden limp would be a blow to both of their pride.

"I'll make it good," Bill promised, squeezing out another generous dollop of lube and working it into Tom with both fingers.

Tom groaned and pushed back on Bill's embedded digits. He _flexed_ in a way that delighted Bill, turned him on all over again and made him hopeful he'd be able to enter Tom soon, after all.

"Say it," Bill commanded with a touch of arrogance. He trusted Tom to hear the insecurity beneath the haughtiness; he needed to _hear_ it from Tom, and not merely assume this was what his twin wanted. He thrust his fingers in at the pace they both loved, easy building up to finger-banging. With his other hand he caressed up the back of one thigh, palming Tom's ass in a gentle but strong hold.

Tom whimpered, a sound he'd let free with no one else, arching his back and bowing his head. "Want your fingers," he said, panting.

"What else?" Bill demanded, slacking the furious pace of his fingers. He was so turned on he had to stop, panting, to push the bulge in his slacks against the back of Tom's thigh.

"Your cock, want your cock," Tom choked out, so desperate the words could barely leave him.

A flood of relief swept through Bill. "I'll give it to you," he whispered, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the inside of Tom's boxers. He unzipped his slacks and finessed his cock from his briefs.

It was a moment's work to tear open the condom and roll it over his length, so hard and ready he didn't even need to work a hand over himself to get hard enough to penetrate Tom. He rested the blunt, bulbous tip of his sheathed cock against Tom's hole for a second, rubbing it there, waiting.

"Fuck me," Tom breathed, reaching back with a hand to spread himself for Bill.

"As you wish," Bill murmured, rubbing his cockhead more firmly against Tom before beginning to push. He was so excited, love and need and lust zipping through him from belly to the base of his cock, that he could plunge right in from sheer readiness. That wasn't the best way to approach Tom's ass if he wanted it again anytime soon, though, and so Bill wiped his hand on Tom's boxers again and concentrated on filling Tom with his length slow but surely.

"Ahhh," the sigh exuded from both of them as it went in.

"What did it for you?" Bill wanted to know, twitching his hips back and forth in the gentlest movements, clasping Tom's hot thighs in his hands and pulling their bodies roughly close. With a light touch that he knew would be maddening for Tom right now, he stroked the triangle of skin at the base of Tom's spine again.

Tom groaned, pressing away from him toward the couch arm one moment, arching his back and pushing down on Bill's cock in the next. "You...ah...really want to hear it?"

Bill caressed down the broad expanse of Tom's sweat-sheened, lean back from trim hips up as far as he could reach, with Tom's shirt bunched up around his shoulders. Fucking his brother was some kind of natural high he never quite got over. He sped up, working from carefully calibrated pistoning to a real _rutting_ rhythm, short hard smacks of his pubis against Tom's rear as he thrust his entire cock into Tom in a sweetly repeating loop. "I love to hear the way you love me," he replied at last. He couldn't get enough of stroking naked skin. He wished they were alone together in their house; he wanted to make Tom beg for it. He wanted to make him scream.

He half-closed his eyes, pausing as he bent over Tom, so turned on he felt he couldn't move or he'd lose it right then. He gripped at Tom's waist as though it were an anchor for him.

"You looked like fucking royalty, lounging against that goddamn table," Tom grunted, stringing his words together between harsh panting and a low, brief moan when Bill shifted from short, urgent beats of his hips to long, pulsing thrusts. "You looked like you could do anything to anyone. And you'd do it to me."

"You want me to be your king?" Bill crooned, grabbing Tom's hips and speeding up again. He loved that Tom wanted him that way – needed it, wanted Bill to dominate him, and Bill was happy to role play whatever Tom desired. He grinned and bit his lips and ducked his head as he bent over Tom and gave him what they both wanted.

As he fucked into Tom, he reached across the length of Tom's body that separated them, trailing his fingers at Tom's nape, catching a braid or two with his fingers.

"'S good," Tom slurred, turning his head as though seeking Bill's touch.

Bill nodded, his breath catching in excited gasps as he went faster. He touched Tom's lips with a fleeting caress, promise for later, and Tom's lips twitched against the pads of his fingertips.

Tom was so tight around him that Bill was overwhelmed, as with every time they did this. Just the thought of Tom horny enough for Bill's dick to gag for it like this put Bill on edge. He thrust and thrust, tipping over the pleasure line too fast. He didn't even have time to reach down and cup Tom's groin to try to bring him off as he shuddered, a hoarse cry leaving his lips, and filled the condom.

Bill hazed out somewhat right then, propping himself over Tom's sweaty back heedless of the perspiration sticking between them and getting all over his immaculate suit. All he could think in his drugged-out pleasure was getting as close to Tom as possible.

When sense returned, Bill grimaced and keened softly as Tom flexed down on him as though to trap his cock in his grasp.

"You're not done already, are you?" Tom wanted to know, sounding disgruntled.

"Shut up!" Bill said, mortified. "And yes."

"I didn't come," Tom told him, wiggling his hips. His tight ass flexed down on Bill's cock again.

Bill put a hand to Tom's rear and began to withdraw, wincing at how sensitive he was. "I'm definitely spent," he said, quiet as an apology.

When he pulled away, standing up, Tom unkinked himself from the arm of the couch with a shudder. He turned, flashing Bill with the sight of his hard, red cock, bobbing thick and engorged and almost at a right angle to his flat, sculpted stomach.

"All right," Tom said, his sweaty face aglow even as he appeared exhausted enough to have come along with Bill. "I'd say it's your turn to lie back and take it, then."

Bill looked over at Tom's watch; he bit his lip. "I'll suck it?" he offered, worried about the time. It was one thing for him to plow Tom during their afternoon break – he had a well-documented propensity for coming early. When Tom was in him, though, Tom liked to take his time. "Didn't know you had another condom..."

He pulled his off and found some Kleenex in which to swaddle it before disposing of the evidence. When he looked over his shoulder, Tom had a hand on his naked cock and his brown eyes smoldered as he regarded Bill.

"Take your pants off," Tom told him, "and get on that couch with your legs in the air." His voice was clipped, the delivery brooking no argument.

Bill's eyes went wide. His knees got a little weak when Tom got so dominant with him; Tom knew it, and was good about not taking advantage too often. Bill nodded, his voice breathless when he spoke up. "There's a condom in my bag."

Tom licked his lips and said nothing, his hand continuing to work over his cock.

Bill nodded at that silent command, scurrying over to his handbag. He took off shoes and the high-waisted gorgeous fabric of his trousers and stripped off his suit jacket for good measure, making a face at the perspiration stains that already marked it. Thank goodness it had been time for a costume change. He unearthed the condom from a zippered inner pocket and hurried over to the couch after he set aside his boxers, a lingering heat stirring his belly over the thought of continued sex.

He laid back, raised his legs up high enough to bump his chest, and watched Tom's eyes kindle with a look he'd never seen outside their bedroom, or the moment before Tom was about to get in him.

Tom didn't leave him waiting. He braced himself on the couch with one knee, picked up the condom from where Bill had dropped it, and rolled it over his stiffly red cock, wiping his fingers down into Bill's cleft afterward. He grabbed Bill's legs and nuzzled his cock down where his fingers had caressed, each gesture and the intent in his eyes telling Bill he was about to be penetrated.

"Aren't you going to--" Bill started, and squeaked as the head of Tom's cock, seemingly gigantic in that one moment, pressed into him with only the aid of the lube that coated the condom. His voice was hoarse and starved and barely reached past his own ears when he croaked, "Tom!"

"Relax," Tom told him, holding Bill's legs up against his shoulders. His brows knit together and he directed a stern look down at Bill. " _Relax_ , open up for me."

Bill swallowed, bit his lip, and his eyes fluttered as he cooperated. He could do it; they'd done it before, but not usually under time-constrained pressure such as this. He groaned low in his throat as he relaxed and the clench of taut muscle dilated around Tom's cock.

"Yes," Tom hissed, sliding it smoothly home. He gave his cock to Bill in one slow, determined press. "You're so tight...God! I can barely move."

"Do me," Bill said, lifting his hips up in shallow circles, concentrating on opening himself up as Tom began to move in and out. "We don't have all day..."

Tom growled something wordless and lurched over him, his eyes sparking at the taunt. He shifted his grip on Bill's legs, fingers digging in as he moved faster, pulling his cock out, pushing it back in, making Bill squirm at the sensation. Bill wasn't exactly hard anymore but his body still responded to Tom; he couldn't help it.

"What do you need?" Bill panted, lifting his hips again and again as Tom began to drill into him, almost as though to punish him for that one remark. A bright point of pleasure was opening up inside him, though, letting him know he'd get hard again and soon. Tom wasn't even hitting his prostate, not quite at the right angle for it, but their insatiability had always been connected.

"Just keep looking at me like that," Tom panted, holding onto Bill's legs and fucking into him steadily.

Bill bit his lip and gazed up at Tom through heavy-lidded eyes, pushing up his dress shirt and beginning to caress his own stomach. He wanted to touch his cock, spent and over-sensitive as it was. He wanted to come again, but he didn't have to look at a clock to know they didn't have time.

"Come on," Bill urged, rocking up to meet Tom's thrusts as best he could with both his legs pinioned in such a position. "Come in me, make me feel it, come for me..."

Tom made a pained noise and rutted into him more insistently, going from his quick slapping strokes to long, deep thrusts that made Bill bite his lips, hard, so he wouldn't make a sound. "Hate using condoms..."

"I know," Bill soothed, trying to open and tense himself in alternating rhythm, hoping to chase Tom's orgasm for him. "I know, I hate it too, you can come in me tonight..."

"On your face?" Tom panted, thrusting faster.

Bill hitched himself up on his elbows, mouth falling open in outrage. "Nnn--" he began.

"That's good, that's perfect," Tom husked, letting go of one of Bill's legs. He leaned in, hiking Bill's legs up toward his shoulders and passing a hand up the black script of his side tattoo.

"Ahh," Bill said, squished and uncomfortable and ridiculously turned on, as Tom pressed up inside him in all the right ways. He kept his hand away from his cock and gasped as Tom swiped his fingers over his jaw, dipping a couple into his mouth.

Bill licked and nipped at Tom's fingers, trying to keep them in his mouth. He glowered up at Tom. "You're thinking about coming on my face," he accused, spoiling the resentful mutter with the way he gasped and tightened down as Tom's cock rode over his spot again.

"A man's got to have goals," Tom replied. He groaned, pumped his hips, and shuddered as he came, crowding Bill's legs up toward his chest, shoving him down into the cushions as he all but literally climbed onto him.

"Not snuggling when you're all sweaty," Bill groused, even as he nuzzled his face against Tom's open palm and turned his head to kiss it.

"You love it," Tom rejoined, giving a low grunt as he pushed his spent cock deeper into Bill as though to stay there a while; as long as he could.

"Seriously, get off me," Bill told him, taking hold of Tom's left wrist and checking his watch. "Shit, we have to be up and ready and back out there in two minutes."

"Not bad," Tom said, leering down at him. "Two orgasms in twenty-eight minutes? We haven't done so well since we were about sixteen."

Bill laughed and pushed at Tom's sweaty chest as his twin leaned in for a kiss. He was all but smothered; Tom wasn't exactly light and Bill himself wasn't the most robust of individuals.

"No, come here, I want cuddles," Tom persisted, making kissy lips as he moved over Bill.

"Ugh, stop it or I'll get hard again," Bill complained, catching his breath. He wanted nothing more than to lift his knees up to his collarbones and keep going, but even Tom wasn't up for a second round so soon.

Tom made a face at him and sat back on his heels, liberating Bill's almost painfully-confined balls and letting him gasp and attempt to resume regular breathing function.

"All right," Bill said at last, placated by Tom's willingness to risk all and let him have him, right in the middle of a palatial photo shoot.

Tom cocked a brow at him. He was half dressed, dick still lying on one thigh and he appeared completely unashamed of himself.

Years of practice, Bill knew.

"We can have that nice, camera-free birthday party you wanted," Bill gave in. "No press. No interviews. No bookings. Just you and me and our family and friends."

Tom's face lit up with his sweetest, most boyish grin. "Serious?"

"Yeah," Bill said, sitting up and casting about for something to clean up the lube. "It's what you wanted, right?"

Tom shrugged. "You know it is," he said simply. He pulled a handkerchief from one of his voluminous pockets and guided one of Bill's legs up and outward, reaching to sponge away the aftereffects of their sex. "And I'll go to Paris with you in October, if you want."

Bill pursed his lips. "It's okay," he demurred. "You have your own stuff to do, and I know you want to stay home and take care of the dogs..."

"But you want me there," Tom said, cocking his head like one of their quizzical pups.

"I do," Bill admitted, "but you'd be bored again. And we've had Mom take care of the dogs so much this year already...we're going to have to get used to doing for ourselves, when we move to L.A."

Tom's expression twisted, reflecting Bill's inner distaste at the prospect of ever having their babies kenneled. He pulled his handkerchief away from Bill's inner thigh, shifting to lean against him and daub himself as well. "We'd better get ready and get back..."

"That's it?" Bill questioned, putting a touch of the piteous in his voice and widened dark eyes. "In and out and done, without even a thanks for the spectacular bang?"

"It was a good bang," Tom allowed, flopping back onto the couch beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"It was," Bill said, all smug reminiscence though it was barely five minutes past them. He sneaked a sidelong glance at Tom. "Worthy of royalty?"

"You're the king," Tom told him, straight-faced.

"Don't worry, lover," Bill said, patting Tom's thigh. "You can 'king' me later."

Tom's expression turned speculative. "Maybe they'll let us do some exploring after the shoot, and we can get 'lost...'"

"We're the Kaulitz twins, all doors are open for us," Bill replied. 

It was royal privilege, after all.

+end+


End file.
